


Food is Life

by TanyaReed



Series: Accidentally Naked [1]
Category: Coupling (UK), Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cooking, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 22:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15895602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanyaReed/pseuds/TanyaReed
Summary: Jane Christie realizes what's missing from her life.





	Food is Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of a series of one shots (I hope! My muse is fickle.) starring Jane and Eliot in an alternate timeline where he is in England helping out a buddy by teaching a beginners' cooking class in between jobs. In my AU, season 2 of Coupling coincides with season 3 of Leverage. Some of the stories in this series will be shippy (because Eliot and Jane could be fun!) and some won't be; some will be primarily about Jane, some will be primarily about Eliot, and some will feature the two of them together. I'm not planning on writing them in order, so I will probably put the order here in the notes and maybe in the notes of the upcoming stories. The title of the series, "Accidentally Naked", comes from the Coupling episodes "Dressed" and "The Naked Living Room".

Jane Christie was mad and wacky. She was a vegetarian...almost. She believed in the philosophy of plants—sort of. She was probably bisexual, even though there were certain parts of a woman's anatomy that she'd rather not see. In short, she was an interesting, exciting person that gave everyone around her a memorable story to tell.

Since this was all true, in an alternative facts kind of way, she couldn't understand why the man she'd been staring at for ten minutes refused to look up at her. Surely he could feel how special she was.

He was quite good looking, with dark hair and features that reminded her a bit of Steve. The whole time Jane had been watching him, he'd been on his phone texting, ignoring both her and his salad. She wondered if she should get up and go sit across from him. She was supposed to be waiting for Susan and Sally, but they'd understand. 

Jane's eyes narrowed as a pretty blond entered and joined him. When he looked up, he smiled—the smile that should have been Jane's! Jane was tempted to go and tell him he'd picked the wrong woman, but that thought was interrupted when Sally breezed in. 

“Sorry. I had a client run late,” she apologized as she plunked into the chair across from Jane.

Jane nodded.

“Are you all right?”

“See that man two tables over?”

Sally glanced at him. “The man that looks like Alan Rickman?”

Jane frowned. She didn't think he looked like Alan Rickman at all. 

“Don't frown, Jane. It causes wrinkles.”

She immediately tried to smooth her face and replied, “He keeps staring at me. It's embarrassing, really. He's with his girlfriend.”

Sally studied both man and girlfriend. “Maybe he has a roving eye.”

“Well, it's rather creepy. Maybe I should go over and tell him.”

Sally shook her head. “Let's eat. I'm starving.”

“We're not waiting for Susan?”

“Susan's not coming. Some crisis at work.”

“Oh, okay.” Jane didn't really like Susan anyway. She just put up with her because she came with Sally and Steve—kind of like an old pair of jeans that were holey and stretchy but your friend refused to get rid of. Besides, Susan was mean. Not in an obvious, cruel way, but her smiles often had casual barbs that lodged under Jane's skin. “Should we order?”

“Yes.”

As Jane stood, the blond girlfriend did, too. She bent and kissed the Steve/Alan Rickman cross on the cheek.

“I'll see you tonight. I have a special meal planned,” she said.

“I love when you cook for me.” He beamed back.

Jane bit her lip. Maybe this man wasn't the one for her. “What's so remarkable about cooking?”

“What?” Sally managed to frown without frowning.

“Not everyone knows how to cook.”

“I'd say we needed to get some food in you so you'd make sense, but I don't think it would help.”

XXX

Jane sat at the table thumbing through a magazine as she waited for her pizza to arrive. She was absently looking at the celebrities and the Royals, but her mind was on the man delivering her pizza.

Sometimes she specified who she wanted, and she was such a good customer that the pizza place never refused. Most times, like today, she liked to be surprised. Delivery was like a blind date for lonely people, at least for those who couldn't cook. Jane wondered if there were more lonely people who couldn't cook than who could. If ordering in was like a date, cooking was like love. With one, you met someone and had food. With the other, you created the food with what was already in your cupboard. Almost like a relationship. Lonely people who could cook invited people over for tea and then weren't lonely anymore.

Jane pondered this. She was still thinking it through when her doorbell rang. Shaking her head, she closed the magazine and went to answer it. When she looked out the peephole, she saw a young man who was probably about ten years younger than she was. He was very handsome, which made Jane smile.

Quickly, she unlocked the door. She was still smiling as she said, “Hi.”

“Hi.” He looked kind of shy. It was cute.

“Come in.”

His name tag said his name was Chris. Chris seemed kind of nervous as he entered her flat.

“Have you been delivering pizzas long?” she asked as she picked up her wallet and fished inside.

“About two weeks.” He still looked wary.

“You look very nice in your uniform.”

“Uh...Thanks.”

Jane studied him and decided not to flirt with him. He looked scared to death. Apparently, this date was a bust. She handed him the money, unable to resist brushing his fingers as she did so. When he didn't give her the pizza right away, Jane held out her other hand.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” 

When he reached for his money belt, she said, “Keep the change.”

“Thanks,” he repeated, staring at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He dropped his eyes.

“You can go.”

He nodded and turned towards the door. Instead of leaving, he paused. “Miss?”

“What is it?”

He glanced back at her. “You really are very pretty.”

Before Jane could form a reply, he was gone. She wondered why he'd said that and thought about all the interesting things she could have told him about herself. Maybe she'd lost an opportunity. She'd have to ask for him again and find out.

Jane took the pizza over to her small table and lone chair. There were once two chairs, but after Steve broke up with her she'd moved one so she'd never have to look at his empty place. The vacant space seemed to mock her now, and she quickly lost her appetite.

The best part of ordering pizza was that it was almost like a date. The worst part was, in the end, you still ate alone. There was a sudden pain in Jane's chest and her throat tightened. She swallowed, but that only made things worse.

She didn't want pizza. She didn't want to be lonely anymore. What she wanted was real food. What she wanted was to cook for someone or to have someone cook for her. Ordering in was like dating, but cooking was like love. That's what she wanted.

Jane got back up and threw her pizza in the trash. Without even pausing, she went through to her room and curled under the covers. It was only then that she let the tears come.

XXX

“So, Jane said casually, playing with the condensation on her glass and not looking at either Sally or Susan. “I'm going to take a cooking class.”

Susan and Sally had been chattering away about something, but they stopped at Jane's declaration.

“Don't be daft, Jane.” Susan waved her hand. “You hate cooking.”

“I do not,” Jane protested shrilly.

“When I asked you to bring something to our last dinner party, you brought crisps.”

“Everybody loves crisps.”

“She's got a point,” Sally agreed.

Susan sat back and crossed her arms, swinging one of her legs as it rested over the other. “Why would you want to take a cooking class anyway?”

“Why else?” Sally answered for Jane. “To meet men.”

“Men?”

“Yes. Didn't you know that cooking is now the in thing for the males of our species? They're drawn to it. Something about learning to care for themselves.”

“And meet women,” Susan suggested.

“And meet women,” Sally agreed.

Jane didn't want to get into her real reasons for deciding to finally learn to cook, so she just said, “Does this mean you'll be taking the class with me?”

“I already know how to cook,” Susan said glibly.

“Sally?”

Sally shook her head. “I'd look horrid in a chef's jacket.”

“You don't actually wear those in a cooking class,” Susan argued.

“Are you sure?”

Jane pouted. “I rather fancied wearing one.”

“You're just learning to cook, Jane,” Susan explained. “Not becoming a chef.”

“Well, standing over a hot stove is not good for your skin,” Sally said with finality. “It's bad enough that my bottom is expanding. I don't want dry skin to go with it.”

Jane was disappointed, but she just nodded. She hadn't really expected either Susan or Sally to take the class with her. It still would have been nice not to go alone, though.

“I don't know why you expect this to go any differently to anything else you've tried,” Susan said, taking a drink of her wine.

“What do you mean?” Jane asked.

“Jane, you never finish anything.”

“I do, too.”

“Really?” Susan raised her eyebrows. “The yoga class?”

Jane waved her hand. “There were no men.”

“Uh-huh. Classes on loneliness?”

“No one showed up,” Sally explained at the same time Jane replied, “The centre canceled them.”

“What about vegetarianism, Jane?”

Jane sat back in a huff and crossed her arms. “I am a vegetarian!”

“You eat meat all the time! At our last barbecue, you had four beef burgers.”

“So?” Jane shook her head. “I'm a vegetarian in my heart. You don't have to stop eating meat to be a vegetarian.”

“It's sort of in the title.”

“I am so a vegetarian, and I am so going to learn how to cook.”

“Even if there are no men in the class?”

“Yes!” Jane still didn't mention the real reason she wanted to learn to cook. It would make her seem sad instead of wacky. She could take dislike, she could take indifference, but she couldn't take pity.

“I don't believe it.”

Jane had no answer to that. It was true, she could be flaky, but she was determined to follow through this time.

“In other news,” Sally put in. “I've decided to sell that new cream everyone's talking about in my shop.”

Susan turned from Jane to look at her. “Godessa?”

“Yes.”

“Have you tried it?”

“I thought I'd get each of us a sampler to try.”

“Oh, I've heard it's fantastic.”

Jane pushed away her annoyance at Susan and said, “Me, too!”

Sally smiled. “It should be in tomorrow afternoon.”

Jane clapped her hands and dropped the subject of taking cooking classes. But she didn't forget.

XXX

Jane was nervous when she walked into the room. Her belly fluttered, and her palms itched. Affecting a vacant, gormless expression so no one would know how she was feeling, she boldly joined the others. 

The room was large, with several cooking stations. All were equipped with new, shiny appliances. It was rather daunting.

The people milling around were of different ages, and—as Sally had predicted—a few were men. Jane studied and quickly dismissed them. Much too young and a bit scary. A bit older than she fancied. Married. Not that she expected to find her next boyfriend in the class, but it would have been nice.

One of the other women came up to her and lightly touched her forearm. “Jane!”

Jane frowned and answered tentatively, “Hello?”

“It's Alma. Alma Lyons. We were at school together.”

She didn't look familiar. Jane tried to recall her face. “I don't remember you.”

Alma's face fell. “Oh. We sat next to each other for three years.”

“Doesn't ring a bell.”

“I lived down the street from you. You had a crush on my brother.”

Jane shook her head. “Sorry.”

“Well, it's nice to see you again, anyway.”

She brightened. “Are you taking the cooking class?”

Alma nodded. “I can't believe I'm finally learning to cook. My mum's ill, and she's moved in with me. I want to be able to feed her nutritious meals.”

“We can learn to cook together.” Jane smiled.

“It will be fun,” Alma agreed as another late comer rushed in.

With a start, Jane recognized the shy pizza guy. He looked flushed and out of breath.

When he saw Jane, he paused and blurted, “Crazy pizza lady.”

“What?” she asked, surprised.

His flush deepened. “Nothing. Sorry.”

She was a bit hurt before she remembered he'd called her pretty. It shouldn't bother her that he thought she was crazy. Everyone did; it was her thing. At least when they thought you were crazy, they remembered you.

A door at the other end of the room opened, and Jane glanced over to see their instructor stride in. She was instantly impressed.

He was about her age and handsome, with long hair tamed with a bandana and piercing blue eyes. He wasn't tall, but he was solid and muscular. It was more than his looks that impressed her, however. He moved with a self confidence she envied, a strong, easy grace that dared anyone to mess with him. His expression was stern, and when his eyes went to her, Jane felt a chill. They seemed to see right through her.

“All right,” he said gruffly. “Gather round. I got something to say.”

As a group, they wandered over to him. Jane watched him in fascination. She heard someone behind her whisper, “Yum.”

The chef's gaze coolly went over their group. Jane could feel him measuring and assessing and had a feeling they all came out lacking. He was attractive but intimidating, and Jane felt her insides shrinking a little under his scrutiny.

Crossing his arms, he said, “I'm Chef Spencer, and I expect you to take this class seriously. Most of you are beginners, but I want you to show respect. Respect for this,” he plucked at his chef's coat, “and respect for the food. Do you understand? Yes, Chef?”

The class shared looks of uncertainty before saying in timid chorus, “Yes, Chef.”

He nodded. 

“This is not a class about cooking.” He pierced Jane with his eyes, and her spine straightened. 

“But...” She trailed off at his expression.

“It's not about temperatures or measurements. It has nothing to do with what ingredients go with what or even how to chop an onion or crack an egg.” A faint smile touched his face. “Food is life.”

He sounded as if he'd said the words before, but he also sounded as if he believed them.

There was a bit of mumbling, but Jane ignored it. Her heart started to beat faster. Not only was food love; it was life. It made perfect sense. No wonder her life had been so sad up until then. She'd been eating the wrong kinds of food.

“Excuse me.” She raised her hand.

“Yes?”

“Will we be learning vegetarian dishes?”

“Are you a vegetarian...” He lifted his eyebrows in question.

“Jane,” she supplied.

“Are you a vegetarian, Jane?”

She meant to say yes, but when she met his gaze, she replied, “No.”

“By the time this class is over, you'll be familiar with all kinds of cooking. You'll learn how to taste; you'll learn the simple joy in a well composed plate and a perfectly balanced dish. Are you up to the challenge?” He addressed his question to the whole class.

The answer was stronger now. “Yes, Chef!”

“Good. Let's get to work.”

XXX

When Jane entered her favorite pub, the rest of her friends were there already. She hurried over to their favorite couch and threw her arms open wide.

“Food is life!” she announced.

The others turned to her, showing no reaction at all to her words except for Susan's, “What are you going on about?”

“It's my new philosophy.”

“No more philosophy of plants?”

“Well they're wise, too.”

Still feeling proud of her new knowledge, Jane settled comfortably in the free chair.

“You enjoyed your lesson then?” Sally asked.

Jane smiled. “It was fun.”

“Lesson? What lesson?” Steve asked. As usual, he was sitting as close to Susan as possible. Jane felt a bit of a pang, but ignored it as she did all the little things that constantly tried to prick her safety bubble.

Susan glanced at him. “Jane is taking cooking lessons.”

“She is? You are? Why didn't you take them when you were with me?”

“Because I already had you, silly.”

“I must have had one too many because that almost makes sense.”

Jane just rolled her eyes at him, but she couldn't get irritated. She didn't remember much about her lesson except for Chef Spencer and his piercing blue eyes and his declaration that food was life. The words seemed to reach inside of her and squeeze her heart.

“Interesting,” Patrick said with what looked like a pained expression on his face.

Jane glanced in his direction. “What's up with him?”

“Don't mind him,” Sally told her. “He's practising his broody face.”

“Broody?”

“Apparently, someone told him he's too cheerful. He's convinced it puts women off.”

“This is Patrick, right?”

“What a pair of legs,” Jeff announced suddenly.

“And now for the weird portion of our evening,” Susan commented.

Sally lifted an eyebrow. “It wasn't weird already?”

The talk moved away from Jane into a senseless conversation about women's legs. Normally, Jane would have had input because she had legs—nice legs, she thought—and because crazy Jane liked women's legs. The Jane underneath had actually always been partial to men's chests. She kept this to herself. In fact, she was so busy planning how her cooking class was going to change her life that she hardly said anything at all. Nobody seemed to notice.


End file.
